You Don't Get to Die Alone
by ThereIsMoreThanOneOfEverything
Summary: Picks up where "Slave to Love" left off: With Sawyer kidnapped and Jack headed back to the island against his will. It's exactly the way they knew it would happen- and that only makes it harder.
1. Going, going

**Note: So this is the continuation of another Jack/Sawyer series on this site, "Slave to Love". I don't like to put too fine a point on AU stories, but this one assumes that both Charlie and Des came back safe from the Looking Glass and the core S1 characters got away on The Searcher, i.e. Penny's boat (except for Bernard, Rose and John Locke, who stayed). So, no freighter people, for one thing. And the Dharma Initiative is just a concept to our Losties. Many other details are different too, all intentional. That is all. I'll get out of the way now. :) **

* * *

"Don't do it, Jack!" Benjamin Linus held a hand up, palm forward, his other hand snaking under the edge of the desk in front of him. And as much as he wanted to keep going, wanted to knock Ben to the floor and then crouch down and strangle him, Jack knew he had to assume it was a weapon he was going for.

So he froze instead, his right hand uncurling from a fist to run over the top of his head, his eyes glued to what appeared to be a live camera image being projected on the wall across from Ben. It showed a simple, medium-wide shot from inside a warehouse (five miles away? five hundred miles?) with the camera trained on a chair. Sawyer was sitting in it, collapsed half forward and heaving as if he were still catching his breath from a punch to the gut. Two of Ben's people were nearby – one pacing, one walking slow circles around him.

Sawyer's eyes were hidden by his sweat-slicked hair, but Jack couldn't stop replaying the glimpse he'd caught of them as Sawyer was run into the room and flung into the seat seconds before. The purple and yellow bruises around Sawyer's right eye jumped out at him first. They were three days old, maybe. There were darker marks on Sawyer's opposite cheekbone, and his lip was split - a new wound, Jack knew, based on the loose, bloody look of it. It hadn't had a chance to start healing, to tighten up or seal over well at all.

It hurt to watch, but he couldn't look away.

"I know you'd like to kill me, but you can't," Ben said, voice cool again, emphasis on the 'can't'. "Not now, not ever, because if I die under iffy circumstances _he_ dies the same day. I've made careful arrangements to ensure that. You have a very big interest in my continued existence."

"Tom said this wasn't necessary," Jack stabbed a finger toward the wall. "That it didn't have to come to this."

"It wasn't. It didn't." Ben relaxed a bit behind his desk, watched Jack take a seat at the conference table a few yards away. "But Sawyer; well, I think we both knew that when the time came, he would put up a fight. My people are only protecting themselves, Jack, and the faster you come with me, the faster we get on the _sub_ and head out of here the sooner he'll be free."

"How do I know that's not taped? That he's okay, and you'll really let him go once…" Jack trailed off, couldn't quite finish the sentence.

It had been twenty three months since they'd all made it home alive, eight months since some of them had started disappearing again at the hands of the Others: First Sun, now a widow; then Sayid, Shannon bribed into deserting him; then Hurley. Jack had known they'd be coming for him, too, but then Sawyer was actually, really kidnapped and Jack was ordered to show up at some random office park in West L.A., - and suddenly it felt_ less_ real. It felt like a walking nightmare.

"We'll give you proof he's been released once the sub is sealed and before we leave the dock. As for right now…" Ben's voice went clipped, professional as he picked up the phone and punched in a number, clicked something on his computer screen that made the shot zoom out a touch. Jack saw one of the men pacing around Sawyer stop, pull out a cell phone and answer it. "Arturo, do me a favor, waggle the camera a bit and let Doctor Shephard know this isn't something pre-recorded we're showing him. Thanks."

Ben hung up and they watched as someone walked the fifteen or twenty feet between Sawyer and the camera, moved it in an up and down in a 'yes' motion and then stopped it back where it had started.

"You'll leave him alone—really let him be? For good?"

"You have my word," Ben said. "We won't come within twenty yards of him ever again. And if my word isn't enough, we'll get you occasional proof – let you see that he's still okay."

"Then c'mon," Jack said, standing slowly, barely feeling the ground under his feet. "Let's get this over with."

He made the mistake of turning and looking at the wall once more as they left, saw Ben's people keeping Sawyer pointed away from the camera, saw Sawyer twisting, fighting to turn the chair around. Jack knew Sawyer had realized what was behind him and he was trying hard to connect with Jack if only for a second, even though he'd never know if Jack was still there to see it.

Jack closed his eyes, head falling, then turned to follow Ben.

* * *

An hour later the back door of a warehouse opened and Sawyer flew out of it, propelled by his about-to-be former captors. He hit the cement with a swallowed groan and was on his feet in a second, glaring death at the two men standing in the doorway.

"Your keys," one of them pitched them at Sawyer and he just watched them fall, wouldn't give them the satisfaction of watching him scramble for them. "Your wallet."

Sawyer watched that fly, too, hitting the ground next to the keys with a plop.

"Fuck you very much," he slowly scooped his stuff up. "Where's my damn bike?"

"It's fifty yards that way," Bram pointed. "And Sawyer, I've never been happier to say this to anyone in my life: Goodbye."

"Yeah. Hope you rot in hell real soon, the both of you," Sawyer said it in his most honeyed tone, walking away, something hitting his brain just as the door clicked shut.

"Hey," he spun around, shouting it. "Where the hell am I?"

He waited a second but no one was coming back out to answer, so he walked to his bike, gasping at what wasn't in his wallet, his jacket: No cell phone, no credit cards – nothing but his driver's license and ninety dollars in cash. He did the math and figured he must be about 1,100 miles from L.A. – the bastards _would_ leave him with just enough cash for fuel and a meal or two on the way.

"Seattle," he said it out loud, looking up and shaking his head, eyes watering involuntarily. They'd dragged him to the place where they'd run him off the road eight months ago, where they'd put him in the hospital a little less than half dead.

"They _will _pay," he said it like a mantra, repeated it a few times to block out both his anger and the image in his head of Jack leaving, Jack gone.

A few miles later he was driving by the exact spot on the highway where he'd been run off the road, and he gunned the bike for the hell of it, a little 'screw you' to the bunch of them.

The next couple of days getting home would suck, but he'd slept in fields, at rest stops before, he could do it again.

They had a plan, he and Jack, and Sawyer knew it would work. It had to. He drove as fast as he figured he could without getting a ticket or landing in a ditch again: He had somewhere to be, people to get on the phone, arrangements to make.

They had an island to take over.


	2. The Three Times Everything Changed

Jack suddenly remembered he was in a bunk on a sub, and missed slamming his head into an iron ceiling by inches. The sedative didn't block out the trip as much as turn it into a blurry, bad dream. He remembered the boat rocking, a ghostly wail of metal stress that went on for hours.

Something more to ask 'what the hell' about later, he thought, dropping back. He'd already had questions for Ben on the way to the pier.

"What's there that's _so_ important you feel you can drag us around like.. you own us?"

"_Please_." Ben had blurted, visibly amused. "It's not like that at all."

Jack gave him a look that said that wasn't going to be enough and Ben sighed, one hand leaving the steering wheel to turn down the radio.

"I'm not trying to be difficult. The long answer will take time. The short answer? Think about a simple day on the island, walking on the beach listening to Kate prattle. You're _content_. At peace."

Jack stared amused daggers at him.

"Your intel on how to get to me is out of date."

"I'm simply evoking a moment for illustrative purposes." Ben looked almost apologetic. "And it seemed like bad form to bring up James since he's not welcome where we're going. Anyway, we spend every day making sure the world is a place where that moment of peace _can_ happen. If we don't keep the best weapons in our arsenal, evil will sweep our planet 'til it looks like… Mordor."

Ben heard Jack's snort of derision, and his natural cynicism seeped back into his voice

"Scratch that. It'll make Mordor look like a theme park ride. That's what we're up against."

"Let's assume you're _not_ out of your mind," Jack's tone said he clearly thought he was and Ben smiled ever so slightly. "Why us? Me, Hurley, Sayid and Sun..."

"Jacob thinks you're our very best weapons. Does it matter? You agreed to go."

Jack didn't point out it was "agree to go, or have a seat and watch us kill Sawyer".

"Since we're asking questions," Ben piped up, chipper again. "I've wondered how you let yourself get tangled up with a man like James? Of all the developments since you left us, I think thatone amazes me most."

"Does it matter?" Jack shot Ben's question back at him. He didn't tell Ben that he'd had a lot to do with it- or at least, a brutal choice of Ben's had a lot to do with it.

* * *

The first time everything changed between them, they'd just watched their clean escape go straight to hell. It had started strong: Charlie and Desmond back safe from the Looking Glass, Penny's boat on the way. Then both the freighter mercenaries and the Others attacked—tried to kill them, tried to kill each other. It devolved into bloody, brutal jungle warfare and ended with Sawyer shooting down eight Others as they ferried survivors to the Searcher on stolen outriggers.

Then he walked the decks for hours, looking like he wanted to die, too.

"Your _friends_ from New Otherton put women and children on their chase boat," Kate had snapped when Jack asked why. "They figured it would stop us from firing back. You didn't see it because you and Des were rowing, but Sawyer knows he hit at least one of the kids. He heard her screaming. He can't _stop_ hearing it."

Jack made it his mission to follow Sawyer, to make sure he didn't jump off the boat. He didn't quit when Sawyer told him to mind his fucking business. He kept at it when Sawyer took a swing at him.

"I would have kept shooting, too," Jack said after blocking the punch, and Sawyer crumpled so hard Jack thought he might need to catch him.

"You're only saying that," Sawyer got out the words between gasps, pulling himself back upright, turning. Jack could see how much he hated his misery being made even more visible.

"If you'd stopped, they would have caught us, probably killed us without blinking. You didn't make the wrong choice – you didn't _have _a choice."

Jack had woken up in the middle of the next night to the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Sawyer sitting next to him in the crawl space Jack had adopted down near the engine room, watched one of Sawyer's hands slowly move north to trace over Jack's neck, to run fingertips along his jaw.

Jack half sat up and closed his eyes as Sawyer leaned in. Then he felt a kiss with a question mark in it; the briefest of presses followed by a nip at his lower lip.

It made him smile, because Sawyer never _asked _for anything.

Jack let him in, jaw relaxing, lips parting with a quick lick to say yes. He tried to swallow his reaction when Sawyer took what was offered so fast, his tongue filling Jack's mouth, sliding along and around his. The sensation was strange and so good – strong, muscular, not just being kissed, more like being taken. He couldn't stop a startled sound from escaping as he started kissing back, something embarrassingly close to a moan.

It was all Sawyer needed to hear: He was alongside him, silently urging Jack to peel his t-shirt off, undoing Jack's jeans and tugging them down.

Before Jack could get the shirt over and completely off of his head Sawyer shifted south, his mouth going tight around one of Jack's nipples, sucking and worrying it with his teeth as a hand drifted down over his skin, the heel of it finding, pressing, _kneading_ Jack's cock through his boxers. It set up a loop of sensation, electricity shooting straight from his chest to his dick every time Sawyer bit and sucked, aching waves of pleasure radiating out from where Sawyer's hand kept working him.

"Aww, hell, Sawyer, _fuuuck_… you… you can go at me harder. If you need it …that way…" Jack broke away to gasp the words out, and Sawyer pulled his head back a touch, slowed everything down.

"Is that what _you_ want?"

"No," Jack said and they both smiled at how broken it came out, how many syllables it turned into as Sawyer dipped in to assault the other side of Jack's chest with his mouth. "I want it like this... But if you need … if that's why you…"

"You think I'm here and not with her 'cause I need to rough someone up?"

Sawyer drew his hand back to undo his own pants, shimmying free as he asked.

"Really are a pessimist, aren't you?"

Jack wanted to ask 'Why, then? Why now – when did you start wanting me, how long have you…' but he never got the chance, because Sawyer was pressing him onto his back, tugging down his shorts, sinking onto him until they each felt their dicks tight against each other. Jack lost command of sentence structure momentarily as they both arched, Jack groaning low and deep, Sawyer dipping in to draw Jack's arms up and hold them lightly over his head, to whisper a long, drawn out 'yeahhh' in his ear.

"Try not to come," Sawyer said as they started rocking, Jack twisting under him, the friction building so fast. Jack let his head drop to one side to huff out a laugh that said the odds were not good.

"I know, I know," Sawyer said, "But I'm not here to rub you off with my cock. Want my mouth on you."

"No, please don't… don't stop," Jack lifted his head up, let it fall again, overwhelmed by the sensation of hard-on against hard-on, knowing Sawyer was feeling the same throbbing pleasure building inside him that he was feeling. Then came a first, quivering twitch against his skin and Sawyer swallowed a whine, and it made Jack push up so hard with his hips he lifted Sawyer up. That got a chuckle out of Sawyer.

"Feels so fucking good. I didn't know… I haven't, I've never…"

"Yeah, I know what you've never…" Sawyer said, his voice breaking. "Been lying upstairs thinking about all the things you never, about knocking a couple of them off the list. You really wanna come this way?"

"Yes," Jack grabbed the back of Sawyer's neck to pull him in, then turned them both sideways and tried to do justice to the kiss Sawyer had given him. He knew he'd succeeded when Sawyer gave up control of the kiss; by the way his jaw went slack, his hips faltered. He growled softly into Jack's mouth when he lost his rhythm, had to search for it again, found it.

Then Sawyer was reaching between them, gripping them tight, twisting, stroking, stopping at the top to rub his thumb over their randomly jerking tips, to drag a nail down Jack's length, repeating the process over and over until they were a wet, grinding, panting mess.

"Jesus, Jack, c'mon, give it up. Driving me out of my head…." Sawyer's voice was a shaking, needy rumble and that's what did it; Jack shouted, coming in Sawyer's hand, shooting hot against their stomachs, both of them writhing as Sawyer came from feeling, hearing Jack losing it.

Sawyer slid down once he'd caught his breath, an ear against Jack's still rapidly rising and falling chest.

"I'd be dead right now if you hadn't…. I wanted to jump. I would have. Didn't think I could live with what happened. You know what they say," Sawyer lifted his head briefly, smiling sadly up at Jack. "If you save someone, you're responsible for him the rest of your life."

"Always thought it should be the other way around," Jack said and that got another laugh out of Sawyer. Jack had never heard it, Sawyer's laugh. It sounded good.

"Maybe we could keep an eye on each other. Check in every so often, make sure we're not going crazy. 'Cause it's only going to get weirder for awhile once we're back, you know that?"

"Yeah," Jack said, running his fingers slowly through Sawyer's hair, tugging lightly at it, realizing he'd always know what that _felt_ like now, to stroke Sawyer's hair, his skin as he lay loose and sated against him, and it hit him he hoped he might get to feel it again. "You're right, we should."

* * *

The next time everything changed, things got worse before they got better.

First they were standing on a Honolulu Air Force base runway watching "the feds drag Kate off by her pretty little wrists," as Sawyer described it later. Jack never forgot them knocking her to the ground, even kicking her as they cuffed her. He remembered the sad, resigned look on Sawyer's face as he grabbed Jack's arm, stopping him when he went to try to help her.

"She assaulted a federal officer, then she got him killed. This is always how it was gonna go when they caught her," he'd said.

They had stayed in Hawaii for almost two weeks, the rest of them, in rented cabins on the North Shore. They did it to find their footing, to talk about practical things: Hiring a lawyer, negotiating a settlement, what they would and wouldn't ever say about what they'd been through. Instead, they mostly built bonfires and sat up very late laughing and drinking, Charlie playing guitar and giving free lessons, Jin and Sun happy to watch on, smiling, but keeping to themselves, Shannon, Sayid and Hurley taking turns entertaining Aaron, giving Claire a break.

Sawyer seemed to enjoy it. Jack kept his mouth shut, but anyone who looked closely knew he thought it was a turn for the sadly absurd.

"Look how far we haven't come, huh babe?" Sawyer had murmured when Jack walked away from the fire with him one particular 2:00 a.m. "At least there's better food and more liquor on _this_ beach."

"It's a good thing it's only for awhile. We'd all be a pretty pathetic mess at this rate… kind of already are and it's only been ten days. We all need to get somewhere, need, I don't know, structure."

"I'm getting somewhere. I'm heading out tomorrow," Sawyer said.

They were walking in his cabin when he said it and Jack leaned against the front door once it closed, watching him.

"Taking off, huh?" Jack asked, and it sounded accusatory, even to his ears.

He saw Sawyer smile at the angry, possessive note in Jack's voice. Sawyer had kicked off his sandals, was unbuttoning his shirt as he nodded.

"Going back to what's left of my family, see if there's anything I can build a life on there. My aunt and uncle aren't bad types. Not their fault I was too angry to let anybody help me when they took me in. My cousins on the other hand, they're fucked up messes. You think _I'm_ a redneck…"

"I don't think you are. I never thought that," Jack said as the shirt came off and Sawyer gave an appreciative nod, a little smile, dropping it near his suitcase. Sawyer was wearing the frayed khaki shorts he'd bought the day they got home, the ones that looked like wanted to fall off his hips, that made his tan really pop. Jack swallowed and asked himself if his rising frustration at Sawyer leaving was about need or greed.

"I'll come back for the meetings with the lawyers, I swear, and I'll be out for Kate's trial. You'll see me soon, but I think I have to…."

"I'd better go," Jack turned and started to open the door.

"Jack," Sawyer's voice was a disappointed plea, and he stopped, door barely cracked open. "Are you seriously gonna go and not stay with me tonight?"

Jack stayed, but ended up sorry he had. It didn't matter what Sawyer's touch said about his value to him, didn't help when he licked and nipped at an earlobe and whispered that he'd miss him, too; Jack shook off every attempt at affection, bit and shoved and manhandled him until Sawyer's bed was half ripped apart, his collar bone and neck spotted red and black where Jack had sucked bruises right out of him.

Jack had learned a lot from him fast, had Sawyer hanging onto the headboard rails and groaning out 'no' and 'please' and "Jack, c'mon' as he finger-fucked him hard, just short of rough, adding a third finger long before Sawyer was ready for it.

"Stop," Sawyer had finally barked, and Jack thought he was going to get called on his bad manners until he saw him reach for a bag on the nightstand and fumble through it, tossing him a condom, running a hand around the bed to find the bottle of lube and tossing that his way, too. "As long as 'Angry Fuck' is on the menu, you might as well really order it up."

And Jack hadn't questioned it, hadn't thought about it being the first time they'd go there. He just slicked himself up fast and took Sawyer on his knees and elbows, pushing in slowly, loving the feeling of Sawyer's muscles squeezing and fluttering over the head of his dick and every inch thereafter. He'd drawn that part out as long as it pleased him and then fucked him hard with deep, slow thrusts that made Sawyer's hips stutter, made him reach back for Jack with one arm, groaning.

"You make those sounds for the people you're scamming, too?" Jack leaned over him to ask, taking him even harder, faster, his hips slamming into Sawyer's ass, their skin slapping with every hit. "Make 'em think they're really getting to you, that you're actually feeling something?"

He heard Sawyer gasp, felt him tense up under him then go limp, saw him shake his head, and he realized he'd hurt him, not with his body but with his jealous, angry mouth. Jack knew it was a bad sign that it only made him want to fuck him deeper, pressing Sawyer down until his face was against the mattress, tugging hard at his hair as they came.

Sawyer had turned to lock eyes with Jack after they separated.

"Who used who rough tonight, huh? That how you tell someone you need them?"

Then he'd flipped over, sinking into his pillow, into sleep, away from him.

It was another few minutes before Jack realized why Sawyer had picked up condoms, that he'd likely had a very different plan for how the night would go and he felt so low, so small.

Sawyer was gone when Jack woke up- not just from the room, but from the state of Hawaii.

Jack tossed his stuff in a suitcase, told the rest of the group he'd be in touch and left for what used to be home. Then, one month to the day after they'd escaped, he pulled his car into the parking lot near his apartment, started walking toward the building, and there was Sawyer sitting on the curb near his bike, eyes glued to a paperback book.

Sawyer looked up when he heard footsteps, and Jack could barely breathe, waiting to see what would cross his face? Anger? Patient indifference? He got a smile instead, a smile that turned into a small grin that widened even more when Sawyer saw the relief pouring off of Jack in waves.

"Buy you a drink, sailor?" Sawyer said as Jack sat next to him, setting the plastic grocery bags in his hands on the pavement in front of them.

"I'm so sorry," Jack kissed him lightly, twice, would have pulled back then but Sawyer reached and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, and there was that perfect slip and slide of tongue and teeth that he'd missed a thousand times.

"Just visiting?" Jack asked when he could and Sawyer shook his head.

"I found an apartment today, about a twenty minute drive away," Sawyer said, and smiled again when Jack slumped, nodding and blinking. "A couple of things, though: I'm not saying I'll stay forever, so don't get all fucking possessive on me again."

"Got it," Jack said.

"Also, I can't be … relationshipy. There's shit I can't deal with talking about in great detail. That is not negotiable. And when you introduce me to people, just use my name. If you call me your boyfriend or your significant other… I think I'll have a stroke and die, so…"

"I wouldn't even remotely consider calling you my…" Jack stopped in mid-thought, staring at the motorcycle. "Sawyer, how long did it take you to drive that from California to Alabama?"

"Eight days. Can do it in less, but I like to actually see something on the way…"

"So you drove home, stayed there about five or six days and turned around?"

"Yeah," Sawyer sounded less than thrilled to have revealed as much as he just had with that one word. "Congratulations, you're good at math. What's for dinner?"

He flicked a finger at the grocery bags and stood up.

"I don't know. It was my first week back at work," Jack picked them up and stood, suddenly sounding very tired as they started walking. "I'm so out of it, I just went through the grocery store and tossed shit in the basket."

"Awesome," Sawyer said. "We'll both be surprised. You can rest and I'll cook."

"Sawyer," Jack said, and it came out sounding like a question. "Have you figured out which way is up yet?"

"I'd be lying if I said I have," Sawyer said.

"Yeah," Jack said. "Me either."

* * *

Jack lay in the bunk on the sub remembering it all, and how it had taken more than a year to feel it: Feel like they were really home. It had taken Sawyer panicking, trying to leave him for good and landing in a ditch instead; had taken Jack refusing to let him lie in a hospital alone. Refusing to let him go.

It was the third time everything changed, when Sawyer moved in and they became 'them'. They'd had so little time to enjoy it - and now Jack was being shipped back to square one.

He wished he could shut his eyes and will it all away, could be back in their apartment watching Sawyer kicked back on the couch, eyes glued to a book, see him sit up and fold back the corner of a page, smiling as Jack sat down to talk about their day.

He felt like his left arm was missing.

"Hell," he murmured and slid out of bed.

There wasn't going to be any more sleeping, so he decided to walk the sub. He'd been given an entire end of it to himself, and he passed bunk after bunk set high above empty, concave spaces—where they used to keep the torpedoes, he thought.

The sub Locke had blown into to a billion pieces had looked to be 1970s vintage. This one felt older, and when he got past the bunks to the kitchen he saw proof: lime green counters with speckled tops, Bakelite handles on the pots and pans. He opened a cupboard and saw row after row of small, old coffee cups and a yellowed menu taped to the back of the cabinet.

"USS Bowfin – weekly meal plan. Huh..." He wondered if a WWII era sub was cheaper, or all they could get their hands on in a hurry.

Jack got to the mid-point of the boat and heard a steady clanging that made him stop, gazing up the spiral metal stairs running up over his head. He wanted to keep walking forward, to look for a crew, someone who could say how far out they were from land, but the steady, rhythmic metallic banging demanded his attention. It wasn't mechanical – something more human. Someone was swinging metal at metal.

Jack took the small stairs a couple at a time and found himself on a narrow, dimly lit upper deck. There wasn't much there: Crates, storage, pipes, a few portals.

For a second he thought he was interrupting someone at work, until he realized she was holding something almost the size and heft of a tire iron, a huge wrench. She was swinging it at the glass, at the metal casing around the window and she'd been at it a while: Sweat was pouring down her back, soaking the tank top she wore, even the waistline of her jeans. The oily grime from the old tool ran in black streaks over her hands, her wrists.

"Juliet?" Jack heard the shock and confusion in his own voice. "What the hell are you doing?"

She had started slowly turning at her name, pinning back a strand of damp blonde hair and staining it black, too, but Jack didn't get a good look at her face until he got the question out. What he saw made him squint with surprised concern.

She had a defiant, 'don't screw with me' look on her face, but it was rendered ridiculous by the jittery nervous energy pouring off of her. She looked drugged, shaky, like her eyes were trying to pick something to focus on but couldn't. Jack was torn between wanting to go to her and wanting to run downstairs to see if he could find someone who might know what the hell was happening to her.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

She tried to snap the words at him, but they came out too soft, flowed together too much to sound as dismissive as intended. She turned and hauled the tire iron over her shoulder, started swinging it again.

"I'm trying to sink the sub."


	3. You Told Yourself it was a Dream

**USS Bowfin**  
**At Sea**

"C'mon, Juliet. What the… let go…"

Jack tried to pry the wrench away, but she fought so hard to keep it he wondered what the hell to do next. He didn't want to hurt her trying to help her.

"Jack!" she shouted it in frustration but finally let go, her grimy hands covering her eyes and fluttering as she shook. Jack saw superficial dents around the edges of the portal she'd been whaling on, a hint of some chip marks in the glass. It turned out, though, that even an oversized engine wrench was no match for the sub—he could have let her swing away all night and they'd have been fine.

It only made finding her like this sadder, more unsettling.

"You don't want to go back," she wailed. "And I can't. I swear I can't take it anymore. Why couldn't you let me end this?"

Jack searched for words to console her, but a voice in the stairwell intervened.

"Juliet," It was Ben, standing a few rungs from the top step, his voice so very measured as he glared over at her. "Come back to bed. Now."

Jack watched them, feeling like he was in a trance, saw Ben step back down the winding ladder as Juliet followed him. By the time Jack reached the lower level, Juliet was slipping into a room he barely caught a glimpse of: An actual bed in one corner, a sitting area, a glassed-in shower in the back. Had to be the captain's cabin.

"I'm sorry she disrupted your sleep, Jack," Ben said, a hand on the doorknob.

"She didn't. What in the hell _happened_ to her in the last two years?"

Ben had started to open the door but stopped and pulled it closed again, staring at the ground. Jack saw a glimmer of regret in his eyes.

"I may have miscalculated, underestimated how fragile she's become," Ben said. "It wasn't my idea to _make_ her stay, you know. I don't get final say on everything. When I saw her falling apart I wanted to free her, but now? I don't dare to let her out of my sight, let alone send her home."

"Aren't you afraid she'll kill you?" Jack asked and a tiny grin flashed on Ben's face.

"Well I wasn't 'til now, Jack, so… _thanks_ for that. We arrive in eight hours. Feel free to raid the kitchen, talk with the crew if you'd like – or get some more rest."

Ben opened the door then, and Jack heard the sound of running water, saw a flash of a foggy outline of Juliet showering, heard her sobbing as it shut.

* * *

In a way, the return itself felt uneventful. Jack stood watching as the crew steered them into a cove by a short dock. Juliet started up the ladder first when it was time, and Jack was going to let Ben go next, but…

"Please… after you," Ben had said with half of a nod.

A few rungs from the top it hit him: A blast of island air, hot, humid, packed with notes of salt and sand, overblown foliage and flowers – a combination so strong, so familiar he had to stop for a second, had to close his eyes and breathe deep before he stepped up and onto solid ground. He felt the hiking boots they'd given him meet the wood of the dock, and despite the 90-degree day he shivered.

"Oh my God," he murmured, eyes scanning the jungle.

"Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought it was a dream," Ben walked past him. "Once you got away, some part of your brain felt like maybe that's all it ever was. Am I right?"

They walked straight in, on a well-worn path through increasingly familiar territory that got them to the barracks in minutes. The mustard yellow buildings sat in familiar circles, a gazebo out in front. Some people were gathered at a picnic table near the rec center, waiting for them.

"There he is," Ben said, and Jack saw the most familiar face in the group headed their way, waving at Ben and nodding to Jack. "He'll be in charge of helping you through this transition. I'm giving you ten days before we ask anything of you."

"Hi, Jack, I'm…."

"Richard," Jack said, shaking the hand he was offered. "I remember. Hasn't been that long. Does everyone who's dragged here get personal brainwashing services?"

Jack watched Richard bite back a grin, saw him look to Ben as their hands dropped.

"I assure you that's not my job, Jack. I've been back and forth a lot, between here and... civilization, if you want to call it that. It's not an easy adjustment. I can help."

"Fantastic," Jack said. "How about you show me where I'm staying, so I can bury my head under a pillow and pretend this isn't happening."

"Sure," Richard walked him toward the farthest pod of bungalows, pointing as they walked. "We tried to arrange the quietest corner of camp for you…"

"Richard, do you consider yourself one of the good guys?" Jack asked. He'd waited until they were at least fifty yards from Ben, and he watched intently for the reaction, saw Richard fight off another patient smile.

"Don't screw with me, Jack. Just because you're special doesn't mean you get to play mind games right off of the boat," Richard said. "Besides, you'd have to assume any reply I give you is either disingenuous or self-aggrandizing, right?"

"Sorry," Jack said. "I thought it was a fair question."

Jack knew Richard might tell Ben how fast Jack had jumped into the game of island politics, but he didn't care. It's only what Ben would expect. And he'd learned something: Richard had been blunt, honest. Ben and his mind games, Jack would never fully 'get'. This guy, he could deal with.

Jack stayed in his new house the rest of the day, the only human contact a quick 'thank you' to a random camp member who dropped by a laundry bag. There were towels and sheets and stacks of island-friendly clothes he might have picked out himself, and somehow he knew Ben had done the shopping before summoning him to his own kidnapping.

"Thoughtful. Creepy… but thoughtful," he muttered as he put it all away, and then because he couldn't stand to think about anything more he shut the blinds and went to bed and prayed for a dreamless sleep.

* * *

_Six hours later Jack was out cold, heart pounding as he gasped and twisted until the sheets were a knot. The first weekend Sawyer stayed over had been...memorable. Later, he realized why it flooded his brain the first night here: It was the last time he'd felt_ so _out of control._

"Are you sure we can keep our clothes on for two solid hours?" Jack asked, still on his stomach, still feeling the endorphins rolling through him when Sawyer suggested going out for dinner.

"Yeah," Sawyer had practically bounced out of bed, headed for the shower. "Let's see what the not-perverted people are up to. Plus, I'm starving."

They'd come close to living up to their best intentions. But on the way home...

"Don't turn the key," Sawyer said as they got in the car, pushing back his seat.

"You're kidding?" Jack's right hand stayed on the ignition, but he didn't stop Sawyer from reaching across his lap to hunt for the lever that pushed the driver's seat back, and he only chuckled when Sawyer started prying Jack's shirt apart.

"Hips up. Gimme a shimmy, babe," Sawyer urged as Jack's zipper fell and the next thing Jack knew his pants were around his knees and Sawyer's hand was bringing Jack's half-hard cock up to full attention, kissing and biting and sucking his way up Jack's stomach to his chest, to his neck.

"We're only nine miles from home," Jack let his hand fall to Sawyer's, gasping as they both started squeezing and stroking together. His eyes narrowed but stayed on the parking lot, making sure no one was walking their way. "We'll get caught one of these days."

"Better keep your eyes open as long as possible, then, sugar," Sawyer murmured right against his ear, lips curling into a smile and Jack knew why: Sawyer had felt it, how those words, that voice going straight into his brain were enough to hike his breathing another notch. He knew how much Sawyer enjoyed getting him wound up, and that only made it happen faster. "Thought of something I want to do to you, and I want it now, not twenty minutes from now."

"You have impulse control issues," Jack said, but it was tough to be angry when Sawyer was so focused on innovative ways to make him lose his mind. He felt his cock twitch hard from wondering what this one would be about.

"Do you trust me?" Sawyer asked, working his way back down with his mouth.

"Yes," Jack breathed it, and then he nearly shouted because Sawyer suddenly went down deep on him, taking him almost entirely in and sucking hard and slow all the way back up before pulling off of him again.

"Great, remember that and don't fight it… just let me, okay?"

"Shit, Sawyer, what are you … _ahhhh_.." Sawyer had started making infuriatingly soft circles over the head of Jack's dick with the pad of one thumb, only his thumb, not touching Jack anywhere else at all. And after every third or fifth swipe came a quick, hot lick or a slap of his tongue right in the same spot.

Sawyer raised his other arm to press Jack back in his seat and kept at it second after second for minutes, lick after swipe until his tip was swollen and glistening and throbbing, and now Jack had a good idea where this was going.

"Gonna tease me to death? Do this until I black out or something?"

Sawyer answered with a low growl that said 'shut up' as he took his thumb off and started brushing his lips over the head in a way that felt half like a feather-light massage and half like an obscene kiss. Every second, it felt like Sawyer was about to open up and suck it, but he never quite did. Then the growl morphed into a soft groan when Jack let out a strangled whine and the first drops of pre-come made the kiss even slicker, hypnotizing and smooth.

"Shit, I don't think I can take... you have to… c'mon," Jack made one attempt at pushing into Sawyer's mouth, collapsing back into the seat when Sawyer pinned his hips down and pulled away to deny him any contact at all. "Jesus, either touch me or suck me, please…"

"Said not to fight it," Sawyer added a little saliva to the mix and then started the circles with his thumb again, pressing harder this time, and Jack watched, stunned at how hot and wet and that couple of inches could get, his cock head an angry red, flared wide, the rest of him rock hard and screaming for the feel of tugging fingers or a smooth, hot, wet mouth. "You want this. You'll see."

They were the last words out of Sawyer for a long time, as he worked his way through every touch, twist, tap and lick he could lavish on him. But it was the sharp little bites that came after that which forced Jack to stop begging for greater contact, made him give in and feel it; waves of pleasure so strong, so ecstatic and so achingly sad that they took his breath away. He felt Sawyer enjoying it, Jack surrendering to him, going limp and then slowly going taut as the sensation built more and more, past what he could take, and he turned into a shouting, shaking mess.

That's when Sawyer finally gave him something more, wetly sucking at the head of Jack's cock, eyes up and watching him, looking blissful, almost drugged, and Jack realized Sawyer's free hand was busy working himself, had been for a while and Sawyer was so close, too. The sight of it sent Jack over the edge. He tried to warn him with words but couldn't get any out, could only reach up and grab hard at his hair, so hard he would find a few strands around his fingers later.

Sawyer dropped down at the last instant to take him fully in again, sucking him through what felt like four separate, pulsing waves that overlapped and bloomed through his whole body, made his back arch and his hips thrust out of his control as they went on and on and on.

"Holy fuck," Jack said when he could. "I think that's the best thing I never want again..."

"Oh, you'll want it," Sawyer was zipping himself up, slowly kissing his way back up Jack's torso and his voice was so low, sex-sodden that Jack felt it physically again. "But you're gonna have to _ask_ for it next time."

"Come here…"

He wanted to hold him, wanted Sawyer's tongue down his throat, wanted to feel surrounded by him, but right as Sawyer sat up and leaned in, grinning sleepily, someone began banging on the front door.

Banging. On the front door.

"Awww, hell no…" Jack flew up to sitting, sweating, still shaking and so confused. It was deathly quiet outside, and he thought he had imagined he had a visitor until there was another insistent knock at the bungalow door.

"Hold on," he shouted and fell back for a second, swearing, hoping the bathrobe he seemed to remember seeing in the laundry wasn't a figment of his imagination.

He was wearing it a few minutes later when he opened the door to a deep, black night sky, a half moon shining down on Juliet standing on his front step.

"You didn't come to dinner," she said, and though she still sounded dreamily out of it, there was nothing manic in her voice. "You can't skip meals, it's too easy to get depleted here."

"What time is it?" Jack asked, forehead against the door as she walked right by him.

"It's ten thirty. At night."

"That part I've got." Jack shut the door and walked to the couch, sitting back. He was bleary, wrung out, and he told himself that was why he was so slow to respond when Juliet walked the few steps between them and sank down over him, knees splayed out on either side of his hips, hands on the back of the sofa.

"Kill me now," Jack laughed brokenly at himself, at her, at the absurdity of the whole night but Juliet didn't seem to take it personally, simply dropped in to kiss him as she started making slow, sweet circles with her hips, and for a second or five Jack kissed her back, his hands finding the curve of her waist.

It would be so damned easy… it would feel so fucking good.

"Stop," he pushed her away as gently as you can and still propel someone halfway across a couch. "You can't … why did you do that?"

"You kissed me once," she said, eyes on the floor, her voice starting to sound as defiant and out of it as she had on the ship. "I thought maybe you'd still want this, maybe I could see if I'm really dead inside. I feel like I am. I can't feel anything. I thought if anyone would help me figure it out, you would but I guess maybe after Sawyer everyone else is… weak tea."

"That's not it, that's not why…" he struggled for the right words then blurted out the truth. "It's because you're a little more than half out of your mind, and there are rules about that, Juliet…"

"You think I'm crazy," she looked wounded and Jack flinched, reached out to run a hand over her hair.

"No. I think you've been pushed into a very bad place by people who should have known better, who could have protected you. You don't need this, you need something to focus on, to help you pull yourself back up. Do you have any projects you can get back to?"

"No big ones. I was going to get the Staff station back up and running, ferry the supplies back over from the Hydra, get it stocked and get the electricity working. But I can't handle the outriggers alone, it's too much especially carrying things back."

"Perfect. I'll help you. Ben says I have ten days to myself, so let's see where we get. And I think if you prove yourself, maybe he'll let you go. It's no promise, but from what he said… I really believe he will, Juliet."

"Yeah?" she sat back on the couch, running the sleeve of her blouse under her eyes, and for the first time all day Jack saw a little of the woman he'd met two years ago. "You'd do that, to help me?"

"Of course I will…"

"Thank you," she gave him a smile and bit her lip. "Sure you don't want a quick shag on the sofa?"

"Juliet, damn, c'mon…"

"It's okay," she was laughing, and that felt like a good sign. "Can't blame a girl for trying."

* * *

**Los Angeles**

Sawyer pulled into the parking garage near Jack's apartment, near _his_ apartment, almost exactly three days after he'd left Seattle and as much as he loved his bike he was so sick of it he had the urge to drive it to the cliff behind the lot and tip it over the edge. He didn't, though, just locked it up and headed slowly upstairs.

He'd found a way to outsmart his sadistic captors, had managed to remember Claire's number in London. She and Charlie had been happy to wire him the money he needed for a hotel room, a new cell phone that he used to get his credit cards reissued. And so the trip hadn't been barebones misery, no sleeping in fields or eating fast food, no feeling like a grifter, like a loser.

Still, he stood with his head under the shower faucet for a quarter of an hour before he even thought about moving. When he did, he decided he was more tired than hungry and slid into bed, hair still wet, and made the mistake of opening his eyes before he turned off the light.

He lay staring at the empty side of the bed, and remembered the last night he'd been here alone. It was a week they'd both been too busy to breathe, when life conspired to keep them apart and Jack at work until very early Saturday morning.

Sawyer had woken up to feel Jack inching into bed, trying not to bother him and he was ready and waiting when Jack finally settled in and stole a glimpse over at him.

"Boo," Sawyer said from under mostly closed eyes and Jack had jumped, but then he'd laughed and let Sawyer kiss him.

"You taste like bourbon," Sawyer ran a hand over Jack's shoulder, his arm, fingers digging in, enjoying tracing over every muscle and feeling them ripple in reaction.

"Had a quick drink when I got home. Thought you'd be asleep, needed to take the edge off. Bad day."

Sawyer tangled their legs and let his hand drift down, pulling them closer together, enjoying the sensation of getting hard against Jack's hip, watching him feeling it, too.

"Well I am most definitely awake now, so... want me to take a few more of those edges off?"

"Hell, yeah," Jack had sighed, happy to flip over for him. And then during their long, slow, easy screw the words Sawyer feared most had rolled out of Jack's mouth. "Needed this so bad… missed you. God, I love you so much…"

Sawyer wasn't sure Jack even knew he'd said it, but he lay there feeling a weird mix of contentment and terror for an hour after, watching Jack sleep and when Jack woke up Sawyer was gone.

It was the last time he took off without a word or a trace, the last time he tried to run away from him, and now he wished he'd succeeded, wished he hadn't let Jack reel him back in with his kiss and his arms and that stubborn, adamant heart of his.

It wasn't Jack's fault he was alone now, but it was his fault he was hurting.

Love was a lie – we all die alone eventually, with or without it, and _with_ it there seemed to be a whole lot more hurting along the way than he really needed.

He wondered why he ever thought they could beat a small nation full of devoted maniacs, or that he had it in him to help make that happen.

Most of all, he wondered why he'd thought he could let someone in and _not_ get slapped down hard for it.

"Give up," a voice told him. "It's time to give up. You are alone in this world, always have been - everything else was just you conning you into believing you're not."

It was the first time he cried himself to sleep since he was nine.

* * *

He woke to his cell phone ringing the next morning, and for a second his heart jumped before he got real and hit 'talk'.

"Who's this?" He didn't so much bark it as mumble it, still feeling drained.

"Sawyer?" It was Penny's voice, sounding confused. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," he sat up. "Sorry. Had a really bad few days. They've got Jack. I… just made it home."

"_I'm_ sorry, Sawyer. I figured that was the case, that's why you were calling from the road and sounding so stressed. Listen, we've thought about it, Des and me, thought about your request for some help finding… the place…"

She was careful with her words and Sawyer understood why, talking cell to cell. He sank back down, ready to hear 'no' when Penny jumped back in.

"We decided we can do this. We'll help you."

"What?" was all Sawyer could manage to get out.

"I won't lie to you, it took a lot of talking through. We swore we were done with it, you know? But we realized you all are the only family we have, really, and you need us. We're not going to send coordinates, though, that won't do it, really. You need a communications station, a boat fully outfitted for high seas navigation. Desmond is going to work with my guys to get the Searcher ready. He'll focus on that, and you call and tell me where to come meet your, um, compatriots and we'll get down to it. We need a plan, a serious plan, Sawyer - this isn't just something you can do alone."

There was dead silence for a few seconds.

"Are you still there?" Penny asked.

"Yeah," Sawyer looked up at the ceiling, heaving a sigh of relief. "That's awesome. I don't know if they're half way to ready to hit the water or three quarters ready – I need to make some calls myself, see where they're at with recruitment and planning. But as soon as I know, you'll know. Hell, Penny…" he took another deep breath. "I was ready to give up last night."

"Don't you dare," she said. "We'll get through this. We're not letting them win, are we?"

Then Sawyer went downstairs and made coffee and as he watched it brew he tried to think if there'd ever been a time in his life he'd been happier to be wrong about almost everything.


	4. Used

Note: squick warning for consensual SM sex

bThe Barracks /b

Hold on, hold on…" Jack shouted in the direction of whoever was banging on his door, stood staring at the knob for a second when he got there. He hoped as he flipped it open that it wouldn't be Ben or Richard or even Juliet—not so early in the day.

"Jaaaack," Hurley's face went from anxious to a wide, warm grin and Jack smiled back.

"Hi, Hurley. Was wondering when I'd see you. Want to come in?"

"Let's walk," Hurley pointed toward his own ear. "Outside, where the bugs have wings."

Jack nodded and grabbed his boots, laced them up on the front steps as Hurley waited.

"Listen, I know you hate the place but I have to say, it felt so weird here without you," Hurley said. "Guess it's not right to say I'm _happy_ you're back…."

"I know," Jack gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Good to see you too. Glad you're okay."

"Yeah, that's what I was going for," Hurley started walking them west. "You're better with the words."

"I don't know about that," Jack looked around, watching the camp going about its business. "Listen, I'm supposed to find Juliet, help her with a project today…"

"I saw her already. She said I could bring you by later – told her I thought we'd go to the temple and spend some time catching up."

"The what?" Jack stopped and Hurley thought for a second he'd have to drag him by the arm to get him going again.

"Thing is, someone has to start showing you around a few of these places. But the temple, it's the weirdest of the weird - to me, at least. Maybe if we go together, it'll be easier on you when you have to go there. Plus, you can say hi to Sun."

"What's she doing at their temple?"

"She lives there with her daughter. I guess Ji Yeon is showing all kinds of indications of being tied into the island. It's, like, a big, big deal. She might be high priestess someday."

"Are you kidding me?"

"John Locke lives there, too. He's got a title, starts with an 'A'."

"Acolyte?"

"Yeah, that's it," Hurley saw Jack shaking his head and his voice trailed off. "He helps with … ceremonies … and stuff..."

"Locke was the first to tell me there was more to this place than we knew," Jack said, as much to himself as to Hurley. "But even though it turns out he's right… I don't know why, but I can't do it. Can't feel like he's a friend."

"That's because you're stubborn," Hurley grinned. "And because he made some pretty bad mistakes, too. Listen, no one's saying you have to be best pals, but let's go sit in the courtyard and hang out; a bunch of people there want to meet you."

"Why?" Jack asked.

"They think you're going to be our next leader. That is the plan isn't it?"

Hurley scowled at the way Jack's eyes darted everywhere, avoiding him.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't you dare act like I'm one of them, like you can't talk to me, 'cause after all we've been through that'd be seriously unfair, dude."

"You disappeared, Hurley," Jack hesitated then plowed forward. "You didn't… you didn't seem to even put up a fight."

"Yeah. Me. Put up a fight. Outmaneuver the mind game champions of the world, right? Or maybe you meant take a swing at 'em when they showed up, because that's so totally me, too. I did negotiate the hell out of it, though. I can go home once a year and my parents can move here someday. I think I did okay for myself."

"So what if you go home and refuse to come back? What are they holding you with?"

They were passing by a stream and Hurley stopped to fill his water bottle.

"My ma had some hard times financially, raising me all those years alone. They said if I didn't come back they'd make sure she lost all my winnings. She and my dad would be broke in a week. That's how they took the last of the fight out of Sayid, too – told him if he wanted his brother's companies to stay open…."

"Sick bastards," Jack muttered, eyes on the ground.

"They do play hardball. Listen, lots of people will be really happy if you pull off a coup, that's all I'm gonna say. But be careful; Ben only brought you back because he was told to. That means you've got leverage with the big boss but it also means Ben probably wouldn't mind seeing you have an accident. You know?"

"Jesus, Hurley," Jack sounded awed. "Those were a pretty savvy couple of sentences."

"Yeah, well, … this place will do that to you."

* * *

bDes Moines, Iowa/b  
bFriday/b

"Menu?"

"Did I ask for one?" Sawyer glared at the bartender, then at the menu.

"Just trying to be helpful. Easy to end up drinking your dinner by mistake."

Sawyer pushed his empty glass at him to ask for another bourbon.

"Good point," he took it with a barely apologetic nod and opened it, but he couldn't focus, couldn't read it.

He'd been in fine spirits when he left Los Angeles. After Penny's call he'd reached out and discovered his Dharma-survivor contacts had raised most of the money and half the recruits they felt they needed to be back in business. There was work to do before they could sail, but it was coming together. Then he'd made the mistake of driving to Iowa before he headed for Ann Arbor, to say goodbye to Kate. It had seemed like a kindness to let her know what was going on. He hadn't expected to leave the prison gates feeling eviscerated, hollow, cold even in this warm and buzzing pub.

"So you did get past being just 'friends who fuck'. Funny, he never mentioned it," Kate said coyly when he told her he and Jack had been living together. "And I called him a lot. Wonder why he didn't bother to tell me?"

"I don't suppose he has to share every detail of his life," Sawyer had felt his blood pressure rise at the hard smile that got out of her. It felt like her declaring victory at the distracted way the words came out of his mouth, the notes of hurt and confusion in them.

"Oh, c'mon…" Kate had laughed so hard his eyes shot to the guard watching their table. He saw the guard look at them and then away, and a fission of embarrassment settled in on top of the hurt. "Don't even try to tell me you're in love with him. You're not made that way and you know it."

"I came here so you wouldn't wonder why we both fell out of touch with you, not for some lecture on my well-known failings."

"And even if your big plan works, how long until he decides he can do better? Once he's in charge, a lot of people will be after him on every level. What do you have to offer him they don't? What do you have to offer anyone, Sawyer?"

That's when he knew she was screwing with him, and suddenly he wasn't so sure he was the first person to tell her Jack had been taken.

He got up and left without a word, determined not to let doubts planted with cruel intentions and some kind of agenda take root. But there was no fighting it, no banishing them as he drove to the bar, no hiding from them as he ordered and ate dinner. Her words had familiar barbs in them, ones he'd used them on himself many times and he could almost literally feel them digging into him.

"You've been this way before," Sawyer heard the bartender say as he wrote up the check. "Got a friend at the prison, right?"

"What about it?" he pulled out a credit card and handed it to him.

"You hooked up with one of my regulars last time, guy who's into, um… the M side of SM." Sawyer was staring death at him now, but the bartender kept going. "If you're looking for company I can arrange it."

"Yeah? Got any regulars about six two, black hair, built? Big brown eyes?"

"I do," he'd said, running the card. "And I'm sure he'd drop by. No fee- I'm not a pimp, I just take care of my customers and they tip me well."

"These tips add up to something you could take a vacation on?" Sawyer asked.

"Sometimes, yeah."

"Then you're a kind of a pimp, babe."

"You want me to call him?"

"Sure," Sawyer pushed his glass forward again. "Why don't you do that?"

* * *

bStaff Station/b

Jack knew he was late heading back to the barracks, but he'd needed the solitude. He and Juliet had made three trips to Hydra Island, shuttling supplies and equipment to the Staff station. It has been a productive day, and they both seemed stronger for it.

"You look like you again," he'd told her before she'd set out for home ahead of him, and he'd seen in her smile that she felt it, too.

He thought about using his free time to walk the path to the beach camp to see what was left- if the 'kitchen' were still standing, if pieces of blue tarp were still staked to the ground. It would have put him home well after dark, though, and the thought of ticking sounds and whispers in the jungle made him reconsider.

They were all on his mind as he walked; Hurley – as laid back and 'take it as it comes' as ever, apparently fine with the latest twist life had thrown him. Sun watching her daughter play in the courtyard of the temple – a dreamier version of herself, no hard edges to her like she used to have.

Free, he thought. They'd been brutally ripped from their lives but they seemed so free.

Then he turned the corner toward the barracks and got there just in time to watch the sun set behind the hill, the sky burning orange and the bungalows looking almost silver, wrapped in twilight. And for the first time since he woke up that morning Jack thought of Sawyer. He wondered where he was and if they'd ever see this sight walking back to camp together some evening. His heart said no so loudly it was like a jarring wave of 'no'.

He tried to tell himself it was exhaustion, but he knew better; if these few days had already made him doubt, made their life together feel a billion miles away, then what was it doing to James?

* * *

bDes Moines/b  
bSaturday/b

"Aw hell," Sawyer said before he even opened his eyes, feeling the pain of over-use running through his arms, his lower back, his brain.

Why was he hung over? He'd stopped drinking at the bar as soon as the call was placed, because he wanted to remember it: Every single thing he would do to this willing stranger, every sound of pleasured misery he'd pull out of him. Then his 'date' walked in the door and he was too on the nose – maybe an inch shorter, ten pounds lighter, but those strong arms, the calm, appraising gaze and the warm voice with a hesitant scratchiness to it – Sawyer almost walked.

"I'm not him," the guy had said, dropping his backpack at his feet in the passenger's seat as they got in Sawyer's car.

"What?"

"You wanted me for a reason, but now it's got you spooked. Thing is, I need you to fuck me up as much as you need to fuck someone up. So get over it and drive, all right?"

"How about we start here?" Sawyer said, and the guy had abandoned the safety belt he'd started to reach for, letting Sawyer dig fingers into his hair and pull his head down, pinning his face to his thigh with one hand as he unzipped with the other. "No time like the present. You suck me nice 'til I say so then swallow me down hard."

The soft half a moan that earned him, so full of 'hell, yes' and the hot, eager wet mouth taking him in made Sawyer hiss and tug harder. Then he'd face-fucked him until the guy was flushed and sweating and shaking in his lap before he said 'go,' and as he shot down his throat, Sawyer fought with everything in him not to call out Jack's name.

* * *

When they made it to the hotel, Sawyer examined the items in the backpack. The flogger and the cane were fine, high quality, and he could feel the warm stirrings of being ready for round two. Then he stopped and shook his head.

"No way," Sawyer held up the ball gag with his fingers, like he was ready to fling it. "I don't do prissy BDSM shit…"

"It's a family motel." the guy still looked mildly messed up on endorphins from the encounter in the car, barely stopped stripping his clothes off as he answered. "Neither one of us is going to some fleabag place, right? And we don't need the cops showing up."

They'd talked about the rules on the drive over: Sawyer wouldn't do anything he couldn't get up and walk away from tomorrow. But there wouldn't be any stopping, no safe words. Sawyer liked how he was fine with keeping it simple, how he got to the point again now, standing naked in front of him, hard, very ready and looking him in the eyes.

"Where do you want me?"

Sawyer had placed him forehead and hands against the wall, and found to his surprise that fastening the ball gag turned out to be an unexpected pleasure. There was nothing prissy at all about the shivering moans the device held in as he worked him with the flogger, the way it muffled his shouts and visibly amped up his desperation as his skin heated and turned an angry red.

Some of the things he'd brought along went unused; there was more power in ignoring the vibrators in favor of the cane and the little black whip that made him jump with every strike, made him lean into the wall, fighting for his footing. There was more control for Sawyer in not giving a shit about anyone else's pleasure.

He'd let him know that humiliation was okay and that's what he used to push him over the edge, dropping the whip to abuse the welts on his skin with his hands, telling him how gorgeous it was on him, the 'desperate, shaking pain whore' look, how he wished he had all fucking weekend to tie him down, to make him black out from it and wake up to even more of it over and over.

Sawyer reached around and grabbed him when he felt him losing it, stroked him hard as he leaned into Sawyer, head falling to Sawyer's shoulder. He was sorry for the need for condoms, that he couldn't watch him, feel him shooting all over himself and the wall, hips jerking out of control, ass clenching as he shook deeply, slowly apart.

"My turn," Sawyer had whispered in his ear, pushed him to the bed onto knees and elbows. "Tell me you want it like this."

Sawyer pulled out the gag and pushed into him, nearly dry, fighting for every inch, his own voice going tight from the intensity of the friction, strong muscles fluttering then gripping at him, pulling him inside as the guy started fucking back.

"Yeesss.. need it.. _awwww fuck_… feels so.…"

The words turned into broken half syllables, then a long, sobbing groan that was part surprise, part over-sensitized pleasure and all need.

Sawyer ran his hands over his face now, fingers digging into his own hair, remembering how he'd shut him up after that with a hand lightly around his neck, squeezing, screwing him as long and as hard as he could and then walking away fast. "Man of Few Words" hadn't seemed to mind: He'd pulled pillows to him and was nearly asleep before Sawyer finished getting dressed.

He'd driven two miles to a liquor store and ten miles to a hotel room of his own, and then, apparently, he had trashed the place.

"Shit," he surveyed the damage- the busted end table, two shattered mirrors- one in the main room, one over the bathroom sink – a lamp in pieces on the floor.

It was a nightmare of a morning, but it wasn't until he was sitting in his car at the top of the parking lot deciding whether to turn left or right that the full weight of it all sank in; how last night would have eased his pain for weeks in the old days, but how it had only left him empty and aching and hung the hell over now. He never used to think twice about taking what he needed, dishing out what was asked for. And he sure as fuck wouldn't have left a big fat check for the damage to the room the way he just did.

"Son of a bitch," His head dropped to the wheel, a foot hard on the brake.

Turning left would take him toward the highway ramp going east, toward Michigan and the DI and his meeting with Penny. And who the hell knew where that would go, if they'd succeed or all die trying? Or worse yet, get there to find he wasn't wanted anymore, because who the hell wouldn't smarten up and walk away from a twisted mess like him?"

Turning right would take him… anywhere else. Back to his old life, where he didn't have to think about who he was or what he wanted. It would be done- so fast, so easy.

He might have stayed there, shivering and paralyzed with indecision, if it wasn't for what he heard on the radio seconds later.

Massive power outage… three states… federal prison affected… four inmates escaped… among them Oceanic 815 survivor and convicted killer, Kate Austen….

"Shut the goddamned door…" he sat up, staring at the radio, snapping from hopelessness to fury in seconds.

She'd used him – made him hurt, made him fall back on habit – for them. And they didn't do ianything/i for nothing. She'd get her freedom and the Others would use what he'd done to try to burn away any hope Jack had left in him, too. To break him.

He swore again, shifted the car into drive, hit the gas and turned left."


	5. Mind Games

***Sorry, not porny this time. :). Hopefully interesting enough events, developments to make up for it. If it seems like a harsh portrayal, it's S1 unredeemed characters. One to two more chapters after this.***

* * *

Jack wasn't waiting for the latest arrivals from the sub, only happened to be sitting at the picnic tables with Hurley and Juliet late one night when they filed into camp. They looked disheveled, confused. They looked like he had looked two weeks ago.

He spotted Kate among them almost immediately.

"Looks like Ben invested in security," Juliet's eyes fixed on the five or six new men in the group. "Wonder why he feels the need all at once? You can always tell them apart."

She didn't say uninteresting. She didn't say thuggish. She may as well have.

Jack knew Hurley hadn't seen Kate yet. Until….

"Holy crap," Hurley said. There it was.

Kate made eye contact with Hurley, then with Jack as her group was escorted to their bungalows. There was nothing even remotely close to 'hello' in it.

"Do you think prison did that to her?" Jack asked. "That she could look at us like we never went through anything together?

"Maybe," Hurley had said. "But we were only here fifteen weeks the first time. And she'd done a hell of a lot of crazy-assed stuff before that – robbing banks, blowing people up. Kinda tough to put a real dent in 'hard ass' in under four months, man."

"Why would they spring her from prison?"

Jack shrugged at Juliet's question, but from the way his throat was tightening, the sinking feeling in his chest, he knew he was a little afraid to find out the answer.

* * *

They held the ceremony making Jack one of them three weeks and two days after his return. He thought it would happen at the temple, but it turned out the event was always staged at the exact spot where a member first arrived on the island. It was strange, standing in the bamboo grove surrounded by friends, foes and everyone in between, hearing the high priest intone in Japanese and in Latin, his assistant translating.

It was even odder that Locke was the assistant. Jack flashed back to a recollection of John hauling Jack's ass back up from the cliff he'd nearly fallen off a couple of years before. John was remote now, distant – he had bigger island fish to roast and an even greater communion with the place. He and Jack weren't exactly any closer, but at least the animosity between them seemed to have burned away.

It was his first chance to see Sayid again, too. It was good to shake his hand, to collect a hug and a back slap.

"You look well," Jack said.

"Oddly, I _am_ well. Better than I expected to be…" Sayid could see Jack had questions, wanted to know where he'd been. He was about to explain before he glanced up and cut the rest of the thought short. "Let's catch up later. Ben's coming this way and as much as I'm adjusting nicely to my new life- I steer clear."

"Understood," Jack watched Sayid go. He'd traded in the wife-beater and cargo pants for a black t-shirt and jeans. He looked more fit and solid than ever. And at peace- like he was home.

"Congratulations, Jack," Ben said, with a little nod. "Welcome."

"Never been one for ceremonies," Jack said. Sorry I can't pretend it's an honor."

"I'm not big on them myself," Ben said. "And I didn't expect the most stubborn man we've ever brought here to change his mind in a few weeks. But… I'd be lying if I didn't say it concerns me a little, that you're not any closer to settling in. Aren't you at least glad to see Kate?"

Jack wanted to ask what Ben didn't get? He wanted to ask what fucked up game they were playing that required her participation. But he buried all questions, made his face as placid and microscopically apologetic as he could manage and he nodded.

"If nothing else… it'll be nice to have an old friend to talk to."

Ben was many things but stupid wasn't one of them, so it was a relief to see the genuine smile that got Jack, to see he'd bought it.

"She isn't the only thing we brought back from home," Ben said. "There are things I need to share with you. Can we meet in my office in the morning?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do," Ben said. "There's always a choice."

Jack's non-committal shrug, the way he looked around at nothing and back suggested otherwise, but Ben took it as a yes and had the kindness to leave, to let him be if only until tomorrow

* * *

He didn't go looking for Kate even though he wanted pretty desperately to talk to her, to get some kind of clue if only from her body language about why she was here. He didn't need to wait long; she showed up at his place less than two hours after the ceremony.

"I need you to promise if you take over, that you'll stick to Ben's deal with me," she'd barely waited until his front door was shut to spew it out. "That you won't lock me in a hatch, make me stay here like I'm back in prison again. Believe me, as soon as I can make a new name, a new life I'll leave, I won't get in your…"

"Can I get you something to drink?" Jack asked it as much to keep from jumping in with questions as to slow her down. "Coffee, water?"

"What?" She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, like only an idiot could think it was a social call.

"I was thinking of taking a walk to our old beach, maybe we could…"

"Why would I want to go there?" She looked annoyed now. "Dammit, Jack, don't make me…. You know what I'm capable of. Just tell me you'll stick to the same deal I have with Ben, and we never have to talk again. I swear I'll steer so clear."

"Why do you think I'll take over…"

"Because you wouldn't come back without a plan. And you'll never stop fighting them. Everyone knows how much you hate Ben and that's including Ben. Why do you think he had a whole fresh set of security recruits on the sub with me? It's just a question of _what_ you're up to…"

"What did you do, Kate?" He started toward her, stopped, had to fight the urge to march her back and pin her to a wall. "What did you do that's so awful, you felt the need to make sure I won't punish you?"

"Doesn't matter," he almost laughed at the jut of her chin; too brave, so familiar. "Only did what I had to do to get out of thirty to life in prison. And you've got enough on your plate with the Others right now, so just tell me we'll be okay. That you and me don't have to go to war, too."

"Or else?" Jack asked, and huffed out a laugh when she nodded. "Okay, Kate. Deal. But if it works out and I do have any say, I want you out of here as fast as possible."

He could tell from her nod, the set of her shoulders that she couldn't agree more.

She was almost out the door again when she stopped, hand on the knob and looked back at him.

"You didn't fall for Sawyer's crap, did you? Him claiming he loved you? You didn't give him money or put him in your will or anything?" He saw from her face that the answer was plainly on his. "Oh God, you did. Jesus, Jack, what were you…."

"You might want to get out of here, Kate."

"That's his _thing._ That's what he does for a _living_. He makes people vulnerable and he…"

"Get out of here while we still have a deal."

"I know you don't believe me right now," she slid out the door as she said it. "But I'm telling you this for you. Not for me."

"Screw that. Screw you." Jack said as the door shut. They were the last words they'd ever say to each other.

* * *

Jack knew worse was coming tomorrow and he needed sleep but sleep wouldn't come. All he could picture that night in bed was Sawyer on their couch in L.A. a few weeks ago, head down, tying his bootlaces and getting ready to leave so he wouldn't have to watch Jack get taken away.

"They'll tell you I'm shit," he'd said, tongue jabbed in his cheek the way it always did when something hurt. "Try to make you think the last two years between us was me spinning a lie. But you've gotta know whoever does that – they're the ones screwing with you. You're the only one that's ever kept faith in me, Jack. Don't let them take it away from us."

He could only hope whatever Kate had done, it hadn't stolen Sawyer's faith.


	6. Don't Let Me Down

**Ben's Office**  
**New Otherton**

As confident as Benjamin Linus was, he did fear losing his power. Charles might find him and banish him. New interlopers could appear – people less pathetically _earnest_, harder to kill than the D.I. It's why he always had a plan. So it shocked him in the deadly dull years ahead that he missed it; how confronting Jack again was the beginning of Ben's end.

"We can throw a ceremony, but it doesn't make you fully _with_ us yet," Ben slid a folder across his desk. "You think you have someone at home worth missing. You need to know that you don't."

He watched Jack flip it open and set the paperwork at top aside with barely a glance.

"It amazes me," Ben said. "What you and your friends can forgive of James. Those documents are proof of bank fraud, confidence schemes; lives he ruined _just_ since you left here…"

"It's easy to forge paperwork," Jack's eyes darted to Ben, back to the folder.

"Ah. Denial. Well, that _is_ a handy tool."

Ben watched Jack spread the photos out on the desk. He waited for it, smiled when it happened, enjoyed the squint and hiss as Jack tried to swallow his reaction.

"These were all taken this month. The ladies in the first few are … _so_ young, aren't they? You'll be happy to hear he does I.D. them, though; twenty-three and up only. And no one spots a fake I.D. like a con man. He likes to give them their first taste of submission and then he doesn't generally like them much at all. The guys are grownups, but…."

Jack flipped through pictures of Sawyer leaving a bar, walking into a motel room, leaving one place in the dark, another at dawn – always with men who could be Jack's brother.

"For me it would raise _really_ uncomfortable questions," Ben's eyes were firmly on his desk. "Does he simply like beating the bejesus out of tall, dark men? Or does he seek them out because the last two years were more of a love/hate thing than you understood?"

"_These_ could be faked…" Jack cut the thought short as Ben pushed a DVD his way.

"I'll give you some privacy."

Video doesn't leave room for denial. He watched Sawyer get in a car with his latest conquest. He watched the car not leave for a long time, saw shots of Sawyer hours later, departing a motel with fists deep in his pockets, face flushed. He could picture the man Sawyer left behind in the room; what Sawyer might do to someone he didn't care about.

It barely even pissed Jack off when he caught a glimpse of an Iowa state highway sign in one corner of the video. Des Moines. Near the prison. Bitch.

None of the particulars of who caused all this and what happened after it started really counted for anything. All that mattered is what it made him realize: He would forgive Sawyer absolutely anything. But seeing it… he wasn't sure if he could ever forget.

* * *

**Windward Side of the Island**  
**One hour later**

"You're lucky we dodged Ben," Richard Alpert glanced behind them for the twentieth time as they marched through the jungle. "And you'll be lucky if you survive this meeting with Jacob. He _is _a demigod, and you know what gods do, Jack; they smite people who piss them off."

"He won't _smite_ me for telling him the truth."

Jack had felt almost bad, charging out of Ben's office and pinning Richard to a tree, threatening to make him wish he were capable of dying if he didn't take Jack to Jacob _now_. Jack didn't hate Richard. He could still see a place for him, if…

"I'm sorry I don't have time to navigate all your intricate rules," Jack said. "But I don't. If I spend weeks or months or years playing your politics, my friends will all be…."

Richard stopped walking when Jack's voice trailed off. He looked back again to see a painful realization still crossing Jack's face.

"Are they dead already?" Jack asked under his breath. "If you were following Sawyer that closely, you know what they were up to. Are Sawyer and Penny and Desmond…"

"I don't know," Richard shrugged. "Ben doesn't tell me everything. But I don't think so. If the Searcher were blown apart already, I think I'd have heard. He doesn't have that many people to celebrate with."

He turned and kept going, didn't wait for Jack to recover. Richard didn't hate Jack either, and he got no enjoyment in watching the doubt and pain on his face.

"I need to ask one more time," Richard said over his shoulder. "Are you sure Sawyer's worth the risk you're taking? That he wasn't using you? It's a shitload of assets you signed over to him from what I've heard. Far better than his average scam."

"I'm sure," Jack said. "No insult, Richard, but that's all I fucking have to say about it."

* * *

**Los Angeles**  
**Six weeks earlier**

Sawyer had no idea he was waking up to their last full weekend together before he would leave town. He hadn't planned that far. He did know it had been about thirty-six hours since he'd turned Jack into a bruised, shouting, seizing mess because Jack still had the welts across his hips, ass and shoulders to prove it.

Sawyer was half spooning him, tracing over one of the longer of the cuts with his fingertips when Jack jolted awake, arched into him with a soft groan and flipped over, gazing at him silently.

"What?" Jack finally asked, and Sawyer tried and failed to shrug the question off. "You don't _get _to look mopey, Sawyer. Or regret it. You gave me a taste for it, and maybe not today, okay, but I'm going to need more of the same from you."

"Really?" Sawyer reached in, nipped at Jack's mouth, pressed into Jack's skin a little harder with his thumb and enjoyed the shiver that ran through him in response.

"Do you not remember me losing my mind right underneath you?"

"Yeah. And I got off hard on it, too," Sawyer paused, shook his head. "But… no. Sorry. Didn't mean to awaken your inner masochist and leave him hangin' but I'm not going there again with you. Some dom-subby stuff is one thing but making you really hurt…"

He leaned in to run his lips over the mark running along Jack's shoulder.

"Turns out I don't want it like that with us."

"No whip?" Jack asked, and Sawyer shook his head. "No flogger? Can we at least keep the paddle? Because Sawyer, I really…really like the paddle."

"Okay," Sawyer couldn't fight back a smile. He tangled their legs as Jack ran a hand into Sawyer's boxers, cupping his ass. "You do take a trip on that thing. But there are other ways we can go with this. Get us both what we need."

"Like what?" Jack asked, and Sawyer felt half his blood run south at the hitch in Jack's voice.

"Like you flip over for me right now and I cuff you. Tie you down and make that sweet little hole of yours wet and hot and open for me. Then I pin you down and fuck you into the headboard. Fuck you through the wall, into the bathroom. You won't need three steps to the shower after."

Jack was laughing softly but he was rolling over, too, hips twisting around randomly as Sawyer talked, like the words were enough to make him want to fuck the bed. He had his arms over his head fast, had Sawyer hard before he even had the bottle of lube out of the nightstand drawer.

"Did you know you had this in you?" Sawyer asked, punching lightly inside Jack, a slow tease, his fingertips digging into Jack's hips as he barely fucked him. "'Cause baby I gotta tell you, you're awesome on top but you're the perfect goddamned bottom. Feels like you were made for me."

"No," Jack huffed out. "Or maybe. I don't… know. I never thought about it... much. Oh.. _ahhhh_, _fuuuck_…Jesus, Sawyer, _harder_…"

There weren't any words for the longest time after that, just sighs and grunts and moans of anticipation and release, and Sawyer realized right before he came inside Jack that in ruling certain things out, he'd opened up all kinds of options he hoped they'd explore.

"Something else you need to know," Sawyer said, when he could again.

"Yeah?" Jack was more than half asleep, but seemed to be trying to surface, to listen.

"I hired a lawyer. Reversed all the stuff you had me agree to; the apartment, your share of the settlement? I signed it all over to Aaron. Some to Claire, too."

"Sawyer," Jack's hand flew to his forehead, a familiar sign of frustration and the gesture made Sawyer smile. "What are you going to do? If it all goes to shit…"

"If it all goes to shit, money will be the least of my problems," he said. "I need to make sure you have no reason to doubt me. That's the first thing they'll do… make you doubt me."

"They won't," Jack said, rolling toward him. "They can't. This is _you_ doubting _me_. And it ends right now. Okay? For good. Whatever happens…. I know you won't let me down. I love you. I believe in you. Accept it."

* * *

**On Board "The Valenzetti"  
****Somewhere between Guam and Micronesia  
****Six weeks la**ter

"I'm so sorry," Sawyer's eyes were dazed, empty, but there was genuine misery in his voice.

"Stop it," Penny nudged him. They were both leaning on the rail, watching what had been an orange fireball glow red, slowly turning into mottled, sinking metal. "No one died. Nothing else matters."

"I know," Sawyer said. "But I kinda had a soft spot for that boat."

He didn't look down, didn't see Penny's sly smile.

"That answers one question," she said. "Had my suspicions."

They turned slightly as Desmond rejoined them, handed them each a beer and raised his.

"Farewell to 'The Searcher,'" Desmond said. "She'll make a lovely reef for the fishes and the coral and in that manner she will outlive us all."

The three of them saluted and drank, and Desmond wrapped himself around Penny.

"Damn good thing we ended up needing two boats for the trip," Sawyer finally said.

"And a good thing you sniffed out the mole," Desmond said. "How'd ya know one of Penny's people had been bought out by Ben?"

"I didn't until the last second," Sawyer said. "It's right before they call or fold that people tip their cards. Do you think we got enough of your computer brainpower over here in time? How much food and water do we have on board?"

The only thing he didn't ask is what they both knew he wanted to hear: How long until they'd have to give up and turn home?

"We're good for three days, at least…" Penny started to say more, stopped when they heard Heinrick's voice shouting for her from a deck up.

"Miz Widmore… come here, we need you. We found … I think we found it."

The three of them looked up and then back at each other.

"Son of a bitch," Sawyer said.

* * *

Two hours later everyone on board was asleep except for the late watch and Sawyer. He stood on deck, staring at the black water and the star-bitten sky. He knew they had at least another full day ahead of them before they'd make it there, maybe two. He knew he should sleep while he could. But all he could do was look out at nothing and think about what they'd find when they got there: Was Jack was okay? And if he was okay, what did he know?

Sawyer wondered if he'd be arriving to 'welcome home' or 'goodbye.' And it was hell on earth for an impatient man to accept that only time would tell.


	7. The Distance In Your Eyes

****note:** For those who have followed all these months, my apologies for this being slow to arrive, short, teasy and non-pr0ny. :). Will wrap it all up with a final chapter, hopefully this weekend! ******

* * *

"I'm here because I'm hoping to renegotiate my working contract with the powers that be. Now that you_ are_ the powers that be…"

Sayid saw Jack's head whip around at his words, and he knew he finally had his attention. Jack had been distracted the whole walk to the site of their old beach camp. He even seemed to loose the thread of the conversation a couple of times as he watched the workers hammering together the last bits of the roof on the cabin being built there.

"Sayid, I promise I'll let every single person on the island decide whether they want to stay or go, but I need _everyone_ right now. For a while. Especially those I trust."

"You misunderstand me," Sayid set a hand on his shoulder. "I only wish to ask that you limit my off-island trips. Now that there's internet connectivity I can stay on top of tech and construction issues from here… and spend more time with Sun and Ji Yeon."

Sayid let his smile widen at the way Jack hid his surprise with a straight-faced nod.

"Apparently I've been a buried in the new job," Jack said. "And I've missed some… developments. But I'm glad. Sun's not going anywhere, not with her daughter being the next high priestess. So…"

"You'll owe me a retirement plan someday," Sayid said. "I'm here for good, too."

Jack's thank you was cut off by the sound of Hurley running their way, yelling Jack's name. He was shouting loud enough to compete with the workers' hammers on the cabin in front of them, and for a second Jack and Sayid both braced. Then Hurley rounded the corner and they saw the smile on his hyperventilating face.

"Dude, why did you not bring your two-way?" Hurley asked Jack between gasps that suggested he'd run the whole damn three miles. "They're here. Desmond, Penny, Sawyer… the people they brought to us, those Dharma folks. They're not on The Searcher, something… something happened to it, but they had another boat. They radioed and they're forty miles out. They'll be at the ferry dock in two hours!"

If Jack had looked distracted before, he was visibly _gone_ now. Sayid and Hurley shot each other a look. They both knew he'd been aching for this day. They didn't understand why he seemed to be dreading it, too.

"Let's go," Sayid got them headed back to the barracks. "Let's welcome them home."

* * *

It was ordered chaos when the ship pulled in. There were forty-two new members of the island to welcome: Dharma engineers, scientists, families, teachers, support staff. Jack watched them pouring off the boat, every one of them looking around in a kind of heartfelt wonderment. The waves of relief and happiness were almost enough to distract him from the butterflies in his stomach.

Almost but not quite, because then there Sawyer was. He'd just helped the last of the new recruits off the pontoon boats that ferried them from the ship, and they both froze when Sawyer saw him, too. Jack figured he'd better walk over before it got uncomfortable.

He didn't stop, not until his arms were tight around Sawyer, until Sawyer's chin was hooked over his shoulder and Sawyer was pulling him in tight, too.

"You have no idea how relieved I am," Jack said. "How miserable I've been without you."

He knew Sawyer didn't need him to say a word about the flip side. He guessed Sawyer felt both the relief pouring out of Jack and… the distance. That things had changed. That Jack knew.

Sawyer was good at reading people that way.

"Fuck, Jack, please… don't shut me out 'til we talk."

"Oh, we'll talk," Jack ran a hand down his back, tangled his fingers with Sawyer's and pulled him toward the new arrivals. "We have to. But we've got a lot to do first. Right?

"Yeah," Sawyer nodded. "We do."

* * *

It took all night to get everyone settled. It was after one in the morning when Jack finally had the chance to put the day down.

He walked to the gazebo in the courtyard and stood in it, arms crossed, locking down each memory; seeing Penny and Des' smiles again, hearing Dory Goodspeed tell stories about his Uncle Horace and how proud he would be to see the D.I. on the island. And there had been the other personal reunions: Sun and Sayid chatting with Sawyer and Locke at dinner, Hurley playing social director, introducing people. Even Kate, as much as Sawyer wouldn't talk with her, wouldn't have anything to do with her; she had her reunions too, her moments - and Jack couldn't find it in him to begrudge them.

He wanted to remember every second of it, to store it for the days ahead that might not be so warm and easy and simply … good.

He chose the gazebo because he knew Sawyer would find him there.

"Would it help if I got on my knees and did a full-out kowtow for you?"

Leave it to Sawyer to offer an apology with an edge.

"I want you to be our head of security," Jack said. "And the liason between the D.I. and us. That would have been Richard's job, but I need him traveling, recruiting new members."

"You doing this to placate me? Make me stay even if you don't want me anymore?" Sawyer asked.

"I'm doing it because I remember the excitement in your voice," Jack said. "How inspired you were to help these people pick their mission up again and look for ways to save the human race from itself. Do you really think I'd put you in charge of something that critical to make you feel needed? I think… you'll be amazing at it."

"Yeah?" Sawyer asked, said nothing when Jack nodded.

"Neither one of us is a sixteen year old girl," Jack said. "And I don't even know that you have anything to apologize for. It's not like we said we were forever or exclusive…."

"Sure we did," Sawyer sounded pissed now. "Didn't have to say the words, it was goddamned well implied."

Jack shot him a look that begged the question – why then? He watched Sawyer fold a little.

"Whatever, Sawyer. I know why you … gave up on us. And if there _is_ anything to forgive, I do. But I can't hope for a future 'til I stop seeing those pictures and tapes every time I look at you."

Sawyer shot him the stare of death, but Jack knew it wasn't aimed at him. It was aimed at the people who'd trailed him, who'd handed Jack a DVD and blown their two years together apart.

"I hope you'll stay," Jack said. "And that you'll take the job."

Jack walked off the gazebo, but then backtracked a step to reach in, to run his lips twice over Sawyer's right temple.

"Good night," he said, and then he was gone.

He didn't take it personally that Sawyer didn't say it back. He knew he would have if he could have gotten the words out.


	8. Home Where We Started

**The Island**  
**Six weeks after the return of the D.I. and Sawyer, Penny and Desmond**

"We're close to having the hatches re-fitted; at least, the ones that could be saved. They'll start turning earth on the new one up north next week. Gotta get an update on that."

"That's awesome. You're easily two months ahead of schedule."

Jack stopped and fished around in his backpack. Sawyer watched him pull out a bottle of water and drink it half down, watched the sweat running down his neck and under his collar as he did.

"Told you you'd be great at this, Sawyer."

He felt the usual combination of things that washed over him lately when Jack gave him kudos: A small burst of happiness followed by a flood of 'fuck you'. He knew why, understood that he could deal with them being apart as long as they weren't the only two people in the room or in earshot. But being apart _and_ alone together? That's sucked. Add a hint of something personal in that voice of his, and it felt like a knife to the damn ribs.

"I'm facilitating. Not much _doing_ involved."

Sawyer grumbled it, saw the twist in Jack's smile that said he'd been caught getting pissy. He felt his face flush.

"You've been short on reasons why I've gotta spend my Saturday morning telling you shit I could tell you Monday. Can you please tell me where we're headed and why?"

"Almost there," Jack put away the water and started walking again. "I promise."

Sawyer followed against his better judgment. As he looked around something registered.

"We're close to the old beach camp."

"Yeah," Jack said. "Two minutes more, tops."

"That's cool. Be good to see the place. I miss it sometimes."

"Very glad to hear you say that, Sawyer." Jack glanced at him and then looked down fast, smiling softly, and dammit maybe Jack didn't get what he was doing but that was _it._

"Look, it's one thing to work with you. Hell, I don't even mind working _for_ you. It's another thing to have you force-march me down memory lane. I thought your people skills had improved, but…hell, Jack…..

Sawyer realized if he talked much longer his voice would say more than his words, and that was _not_ happening. So he turned and walked.

"Sawyer, stop…"

Jack was spinning him around, and fuck if it wasn't a flashback to times when he couldn't decide if he wanted to lay him out with a left hook or screw him. The thought made him laugh, made him gasp, was why he wasn't ready when Jack reeled him in and pinned him close, a hand on his hip and a hand behind his neck, kissing him light, deeper, deepest until Sawyer was holding on to stay upright.

"This mean I'm out of the dog house?" He murmured against Jack's shoulder when he could get his mouth free.

"Told you that's not what it was about. I needed you to believe you're home. And I had to be able to look forward, not backward. I'm there. Are you?"

Sawyer's answer was a nod and another kiss; light, deeper, deepest until they were both hanging on.

* * *

Sawyer made the prerequisite jokes about the cabin, about the 'mayor' having the 'city workers' buid his house, but Jack could see he liked it. He even bitched about Jack's insistence at a cooling-off swim after their hike, but once they were out in the water a few hundred yards Sawyer had looked back at the beach and had taken it all in silently, drinking in the new with the old in a way that said it looked good, looked right.

"On your back, okay?"

Jack gave Sawyer a push toward the bed and watched him comply, shifting his hips and settling in, pillows under his head and arms over them. He was spread out like a golden brown, salty banquet.

"Jesus, babe," Jack dropped down to lay in between those legs, hands roaming, mouth moving wetly over his ribs, his abdomen. "Could you maybe give me a little credit for holding out for eight weeks?"

"Stubborn as you are? No…"

Jack was pushing Sawyer's legs up and back as he answered, and they were the last words Sawyer managed to get out for a long time as Jack drank in the smell, the taste of him, slowly and tenderly sucking and licking him into a hot, wet, panting mess.

He'd folded him even further, then, practically doubled him back to spit and prep his hole with lips and fingers until Sawyer was rippling, whining, fucking back at his tongue, nearly begging for it.

"Mine," Jack said, didn't ask, as he pushed into him, started fucking him smooth and fluid. "You're mine."

He knew half the reason Sawyer gave him a strangled 'yes' was that he was only about ten seconds from losing it, from coming all over them both. And he was more than fine with that.

* * *

Windward Shore

Three Months Later

"It looks like a cruise ship." Jack dialed the focus wheel a little. "Almost underwater now. It's too far away to see the lifeboats – how many did Hurley say?"

"Eight of 'em," Sawyer was standing over where Jack was sprawled on the hillside, elbows on the rock in front of him to balance the binoculars. "He picked up their communications as it was sinking. Says each raft's got about six people in it. Do the math…."

"Forty eight of them. Just like us when we arrived."

"You think Jacob sent 'em?"

Sawyer sat next to him, looked out at the wide expanse of ocean, the thick smoke several miles out, getting thinner.

"If he did he didn't tell me."

"Wouldn't be a first. Hurley's right, that dude's worse than Yoda."

"There could be some candidates in the mix." Jack sat up and handed Sawyer the binoculars, let him take a look while Jack hit his two-way and waited for the squelch to die out. "Kate, you there?"

"Yeah."

"There are eight lifeboats coming in on the windward side, south of the Pearl Station. If you head that way now, you can be there before them. You're one of the survivors – make sure you look like you've been through what they have. Okay? Get me a count and names in three days."

"Got it."

Sawyer looked over at him with a grin full of 'oh, no, you didn't.'

"Jack, wasn't it Ethan and Goodwin that Ben sent our way that first month?"

"Yeah. It was."

"And didn't they both end up….."

"Don't worry about her," Jack stretched back out and took the binoculars, focused on the ship again – or what little was left of it. "She's too mean to die."

"Speaking of too mean to die," Sawyer ran a hand over Jack's back to feel the warmth of him through his t-shirt. "Never did tell me what you did with Captain Fantastic. You have Ben executed?"

Jack gave him a 'hell no' look.

"It was a bloodless coup, Sawyer. No way I was starting things off on that foot."

"Okay, goodie for you. So…. what did you do with him?"

"You know those nets full of boxes of food that arrive every two weeks from Guam? Someone has to buy the boxes. Sort the boxes. Tape the boxes…."

Sawyer was laughing, and that made Jack grin, hearing that laugh.

"Awesome, babe. You're learning how to be a hardass."

"Yeah," Jack admitted. "I'm getting there. This job will do it to you."

"You ever gonna let me handle one of these meet and greets?" Sawyer nodded toward the water, watched Jack watching the ship.

"Maybe in another fifty years or so," Jack looked at him briefly to enjoy the reaction. "I talked with Jacob and got us Richard's deal. Hope you don't mind sticking around to see what the place looks like in, oh, 2173 or so?"

Sawyer's laugh said Jack must be crazy. But it didn't sound like he had any objections.

_ -end-_


End file.
